"I know. And I'll keep calling you out when you go too far. We'll figure out the balance as we go."
We drove in comfortable silence for a while.
"Matteo?" Stefan's voice was quiet.
"Yeah?"
"I meant what I said. About waiting. If the trial goes wrong. If you end up in prison." He looked at me. "I'll wait. However long it takes. Fight for appeals. Whatever it takes to get you out."
"Stefan—"
"I know you said not to sacrifice my life like that. But it wouldn't be a sacrifice. It would be a choice." His grip on my hand tightened. "You're it for me, Matteo. I don't know how I know that after only a few months. But I do. You're it."
My chest felt tight. "You're it for me too. Have been since the moment I caught you in that office and couldn't bring myself to let you go."
"We're so fucked up."
"Completely."
"And we're probably going to destroy each other."
"Maybe. Or maybe we'll survive this. Get through the trial. Deal with Giuseppe and the FBI and every threat that comes our way." I pulled our joined hands to my lips. Kissed his knuckles. "Either way, we're doing it together."
"Together," Stefan agreed.
We pulled into Inferno's parking garage as the sun was setting. Guards were already there, more than usual. Elio had clearly increased security after tracing the threats.
Stefan looked up at the building—the club that had been his prison, then his workplace, now his home.
"Ready?" I asked.
"Ready." He smiled. "Let's go face whatever comes next."
We walked into Inferno hand in hand.
CHAPTER 15: STEFAN
I COULDN'T STOPjumping at shadows.
We'd been back at Inferno for three days and I still flinched at unexpected sounds. Footsteps in the hallway made my heart race. Strangers in the club made my palms sweat. Every unfamiliar face could be a threat. Every delivery person could be an assassin.
I knew it was irrational. The building had more security than ever. Guards at every entrance. Cameras everywhere. Matteo had briefed the entire staff about potential threats and what to watch for.
But knowing I was safe didn't stop the adrenaline spike every time someone walked too close.
Matteo noticed. Of course he noticed.
"You're on edge," he said one morning, finding me staring out the window of his apartment with my coffee going cold in my hands.
"I'm fine."
"You're not fine. You barely slept last night. You've been checking the locks obsessively. You nearly had a panic attack when someone knocked on the door yesterday." He moved behind me. Put his hands on my shoulders. "Stefan, this is normal. You were threatened. Your routine was surveilled. You have every right to be hypervigilant right now."
"I hate it." My voice came out tight. "I hate feeling scared. Hate looking over my shoulder constantly. Hate that they got in my head like this."
"It'll get better. With time. With distance from the threats." He kissed my temple. "But you don't have to pretend you're fine when you're not."
I leaned back against him. Let myself take comfort in his solid presence.
